Zangetsu
by Ray The Red
Summary: Oneshot. Sequel to Rejection. Under the moon he falls and under the moon he is reborn. AU/Timetravel


_Zangetsu_

_"You'll age if you pull back. You'll die if you hesitate." _

_- Zangetsu (Yhwach)_

Under the sickled moon he falls.

The last thing he hears is a scream of desperation and he knows it is a call for him. He remembers light, piercing through that ever present darkness that he is floating in. He knows that call, and he answers.

He goes towards the light pulling along the darkness that surrounds him, only the light is longer yellow; it is a bright vibrant blue. He, however, doesn't care for that. He only hears the mantra that he thinks, speaks and shouts.

_Get up._

_Get up!_

_GET UP!_

He doesn't realize it, but he is not the only voice that is shouting. He is just another scream to join the rest, the newest and the loudest; the strongest.

He is the last and with him they are complete. With him they are one, and they follow him for he has a clear purpose. He is the one who knows what needs to be done.

The other voices pick up his chant, _"GET UP! GET UP! GET UP!"_

Theirs is a duty to protect, no matter what the cost. To defeat whatever or whoever is in their way. To kill, to destroy. All that in order to protect.

The blue light turns a blood red.

The darkness that the newest voice pulled along takes form, and yet whiteness is there too. Swords are formed – sharp and dangerous - to cut down their enemies; to pierce the heavens. A vicious smile stretches, made of bone.

Under the sickled moon they are born. They roar to the skies as yellow eyes open.

They sense an enemy, even if not the one they are searching for, and shoot off. They must kill it, destroy it. All in order to protect.

High above them three men, each wrapped in a black cloak, smile.

"Looks like we succeeded."

"That is yet to be determined, Gin."

"Kaname is right in that, now - let us watch our little experiment."

* * *

All of them are afraid – even he – of being no more; of being absorbed by the rest. Each one of them wants to be the one on top, the one ordering the rest. As they slaughter enemies and prey on the outside they fight inside as well. It is chaos; their very being is chaos.

Each day there are less of them, less voices, and all of them grow more vicious; more desperate. Time is as much their enemy as they are to each other.

They put aside their own fighting when they feel a big power enter, it is threatening. It must be an enemy – maybe even _the_ enemy - and they speed off towards it. Two smaller lights, blue like they used to be, flicker beside it like candles in the wind.

Bleu is a color they no longer associate with themselves. Red is all they know, and all they ever want to see. They want to paint the world red.

The two men don't stand a chance and both are cut down, becoming the red paint on their brush of insanity. The big power, the one that burns orange, moves towards them. It is angry, but so are they.

It is a good fight, and it excites them. Their black blades cross with the enemies' cold steel one. They are pushing the enemy back, and this excites them even more; they are winning. Suddenly there is another bleu light.

Blue lights are a no go. Red light is, and between their horns a ball of red light blossoms. It shoots forward, and they are extremely satisfied when the blue light is no more.

The orange light is furious and fire fills the air as blood is spilt. They are now on the defensive, and they lose an arm. They don't like that. Not at all.

Once more their horns are raised, poised to strike and destroy everything the protrusions are aimed at. The fire is not put out like planned; an arrow of blue, almost white in its purity, makes them stop in blasting their enemy to smithereens.

That would have hurt, a lot more than the fire would have. She is much more an enemy than the fire, yet she also feels so much safer. This new enemy brings about a sense of familiarity that guides their bloodlust and insanity.

Closer, they must get closer!

Arrows fill the air, but none hit. The volley ends and if their mask was capable of emotion it would show an insane smile. Instead of a smile they open up their maw wide; their enemy is vulnerable and as such they shall take it down.

Purity, for some reason calls out to them. Whether out of some odd nostalgic feeling or downright fear they don't know. All they know is that it the taste of flesh is truly the best in the world.

Then there is pain, and many voices perish with it in a flash of white light that is so pure you could almost call it holy. Many latch on to the purity that killed their brethren, and he is one of the first to cross it; because it feels so damn familiar.

The ones that don't cross the bridges of souls are desperate and insane. They will not fall, not now; not before they have taken down the enemy! They haven't painted the world red yet, they haven't lost yet! If they are going to perish than they will go out in a bang; the world will see red!

The bridge crumbles and the fifty or so voices that made it across it watch the red light in fascination. They revere it and all of them laugh when the orange light takes the brunt of the force and saves the pure, white light. Fool, they are now part of it!

It is just another voice to added to them, another enemy they have to defeat in order to find out who is King. Yes, King sounds mighty nice.

They start fighting, and consuming one another again. Soon the purity will join the fight as well, he in particular shivers in anticipation.

* * *

Two days pass before finally the defenses of the soul they now inhabit fall enough for her to join their mayhem. Although, before that they as a whole have to consume her; she has to leave her being and join theirs. 25 of them are left, and the blood bath is far from over.

Closer and closer she comes, and it just as she is about to enter their being and join the fray that the orange light from before intervenes. It is no longer hurt, at full strength and angry. They on the other hand are weak, a portion of their former selves. Only inside their own being do they own swords.

The orange light speaks, and most of the words are ignored. One phrase however catches their attention, and his specifically: " GETSUGA TENSHOU!"

The blue light that races towards them is so familiar, and ten of them are destroyed by it. Chains begin to bind around them, forming a cage. Impenetrable in its nature and in its power.

When the sealing is done 15 of them are left whole, all ready to fight for the title of King. No more outside distractions, and it is in that moment that they all realize that this is the beginning of the end.

This is the final battle and with that in mind the carnage begins anew.

* * *

Years pass as their blades cross. Five of them are left now, and he is one of them. Their rage and need for carnage has subdued some, though it still boils strong beneath the surface. He wants to rip them to shreds to show that he is the ruler for once and for all.

King is what he want to be and that is for one reason, and for one reason alone; to protect. He has long forgotten what is meant to protected though and so he protects his own life. Yes, all he knows is to kill and to survive; it's what he does best after all.

They have learned, and each of them has many more members in themselves. They are not the same however, because whilst the end result might be the same, their beginnings and the essences that make them are what differentiate them. Each of them is unique in one way or another.

For example, the big guy in the corner has long hair that almost touches the ground. It is dark like the darkness he himself brought along, and perhaps the guy absorbed some of it. It is more than likely.

Burn marks cover his left arm and he stands tall, taller he himself and is twice as broad. The black mask that covers the right side of his face shows a lone dark red eye.

It makes for an intimidating image, yet in his hand he holds a thin sword; you could almost call it needle-like in it's being. The discrepancy between weapon and wielder, it had made Number Eight laugh. Number Eight isn't around anymore, and the rest learned to not underestimate it.

That blade; it's fast, it's sharp, and it's dangerous. Then again, all of them are.

Case in point, he dodges a swipe from the one he's dubbed Number Three. The guy is quite frankly put the most blood thirsty out of them all. Theory is that in pure amount of voices, number 3 wins by a fair share. Doesn't matter all that much though as that was early in the game. Still, that the guy's around now shows just how dangerous the motherfucker is.

This guy's more monster than man, with a tail that makes fights more difficult than they have right to be. The things tipped in black and he bends backwards as he avoids the tip. He remembers all too clearly how Number Ten got skewered by it and was then eaten alive by Number Three. It had not been a pretty sight.

The hole that's as big as his head where the stomach is supposed to be never grows smaller. It probably symbolizes how the fucker's hunger can't be quenched. He tears his eyes away from it as glint of silver comes from the right.

He himself uses his shorter blade to deflect the huge silver cleaver that comes his way. He's now face to face with his enemy. Crazy green eyes look him, and he hears a cackle that is far from sane. Not that any of them are close to sane, but it's the thought that counts.

He has no clue if his enemy has any hair, but he sure as hell can't see it. White covers the scalp and goes down the sideburns and forms a point at the chin. Basically it's a bone goatee, which can also stab quite efficiently, and he jumps away before number three can prove exactly how efficient.

He avoids going to the right, that's where The Twins reside. Don't want to get close to them, no sir.

Each of them has white hair, tanned skin, and wears a horn on their head. Bandages cover the lower half of their faces, and all he sees are their calculatingly cold and sharp yellow eyes. One wears the horn on the right side and the other on the left. When they stand next to each other they can sometimes recreate The Red Light.

Basically they're already one of their own, and there's been enough times that they've merged together. See, individually they can hold out, but they can't conquer. Together, they're a fucking nightmare to deal with. Number Six faced them when they were separate and almost won too, until The Red Light obliterated his right side and the daggers the two teenagers use cut up the rest.

Number Nine was their latest victim and the last time he'd seen them merge. They grow twice their size and twice as fast. Their daggers merge too, and it becomes a long black katana with a swastika for a handle and off of it hangs a chain. Their mask is whole and when before they only speak in phrases, now even that's gone. All they do is roar, whilst the white hair that reaches their shoulder flutters as they move.

It reminds them of their time outside of the cage, and they all watched with glee as Number 9, loud mouthed bastard that he was, got ripped to pieces. He'd been held up by the chain and had been blown up a limb at a time. None of the others had dared to intervene; they revered the Red light.

When in that form they're Number Two, and they know as well as the rest that their battle in that form would never be interrupted. Even Number Three shows that much restraint, though he's gone after them in their split form many a time.

He curses and raises his bigger blade to intercept the black scabbard as it aims to cut his head off. His completely black cleaver trembles as he holds off the blade. He looks through the hole that's in his bigger cleaver and laughs outright as he looks at Number Five. He loves to fight Number 5, she's the only who actually responds to his barbs and the grin on her plumb lips makes him grin in return.

_This was going to fun!_

He slashes at her with his smaller blade and watches as she jumps away.

She's a beauty alright; wavy brown hair that reaches her shoulders and striking blue eyes. She has curves in all the right places, though they are moderate in size. Her bikini-like armor shows them off though, and half a coat adds to the pleasing image.

Really, were it not for the horn protruding from her forehead and the hole right beneath her collar bone she could have been human. Or, you know the sharp as hell claws that killed number 15, or the pointy teeth that ripped open Number 12's artery. Human? Please, she was just as much a monster as them.

Out of them all she could perhaps be called the most vicious. She'd had an alliance with the three other female voices. She'd stabbed them two in the back when she'd had enough of them, and had thrown her other teammate in front of his signature move. She'd smiled whilst doing it, and Number 15 had said she got off of it. The result was that his heart got clawed out and eaten right then and there.

Most refrained from mentioning it out loud again, though everyone had thought it had one point or another. He himself was not most, and as such he loved calling her out on it.

"Hello Sweetie, I see you and Number Three have yourselves a little alliance. I know that Number Three is hungry, but that he's hungry enough to eat you out is quite the surprise!"

" Someone jealous?" came her sultry voice.

"No, not at all," and he blocked Number Three's lighter colored cleaver. He grinned as he put his energy behind it and it collected in the pocket of his cleaver.

Green eyes widened, "Good night."

The tailed monster jumped out of the way, but he'd counted on that. The bleu beam went straight for the twins.

Now, this was a dangerous call, but they'd been stagnant for a long while. All of them had.

He wanted another battle Royale, as that usually ended up with one of them dead. Looking at the circumstance it very well might be him. He grinned as the adrenaline sped up his awareness.

_Bring it on!_

What happened next would for the following years confuse the fuck out of them; the cage budged. Everyone stopped with whatever they were doing. It budged again, just a little harder.

_What the –_ the cage shook and this time it didn't stop. It was expanding, twisting and shaking. With effort they all kept standing. Had his Getsuga Tenshou, done that?

It looked like he wasn't the only one who thought that as The Twins started creating The Red Light. The cage's chains buckled under the pressure, but they didn't break. Still, we'd long ago given up on getting out with brute force. It looked like now we had a chance.

Number three cackled and screamed, "Freedom!" He ran at the closest chain and raised his right hand, and green light exploded in the form of a claw. All of us watched with interest.

This claw of his was a draining move, which was the reason he used it so rarely, but the power behind it was perhaps stronger than Number Two's Red Light.

The beast was about to smite it down when the chains contracted and cut off the offending hand. The exploding green light didn't so much put a dent in the chains, but it obliterated Number Three just fine.

He heard Number Four curse in his low voice, and watched as the rest of the cage began to shrink. The left over green energy went to the closest source, the twins.

_Damn, like they needed the upgrade! _

With each step they got closer to each other, but so did the chains. It was a tense situation. They all wanted to live but didn't trust each other at all. It was death either way, and none of them were keen on dying.

Then the cage flipped, and all of them put a lot of effort to stand in the air but not touch the ever shrinking chains. He saw it in that split second, an opportunity he simply couldn't miss. He sent a Getsuga Tenshou her way, this one was red and from his smaller blade. She jumped up, and he smiled as her blue eyes widened. She never stood a chance and the chains cut her up like Number Three. Number Five became a part of him that moment, and he grinned as the power thrummed through him.

No one else moved, though Number Four seemed to not like it that he was the only one who'd not gotten an upgrade. The Twin's eyes were ever calculating.

The cage flipped again, and again, until finally it stopped. The chains opened, and all of their eyes widened as the chains shot and started to bind around something bigger.

Something way bigger; their cage had gotten an upgrade.

This new cage, it might be upside down, but it was bigger, better and most of all you could taste the freedom. Not one of them hesitated to jump into it.

* * *

It lasted years, their fights. This world was nigh indestructible; or at least, it rebuilt itself quickly. Sure, it rained a damn lot, but the first time it had happened he'd laughed in joy. He liked the aftermath of the rain most of all though, because then there were puddles. It had been the first time he'd seen himself.

He was white all over; white hair, white skin, white clothes. The only things that weren't white were his yellow irises and the black eyeballs. It was the opposite of his black blades and his reiatsu. He liked to think that some of the purity had rubbed off on him and that that was why he was so white.

In his eyes this was paradise compared to before, but as he stood there panting, it didn't seem like such a paradise anymore.

Glass and stone littered the ground, as did droplets of his blood. He and Number Four had collaborated on taking down the twins, and each of them had absorbed one of the teens. That collaboration had come to an end the second those two nuisances were gone.

Number Four, the silent and cumbersome bastard, had also learned Getsuga Tenshou and fuck if it wasn't more powerful than his own. It was black with just a hint of red, probably courtesy of the twins. The guy was calling himself Getsuga now, and it pissed him off.

He shot off again, and he knew that the cackle was Number Three's addition to his own system. The fucker was simply so insane that not even the Twins hadn't been able to quell it. Only Getsuga seemed to have control over the guy, as he never cackled or anything of the sort. Or, he himself had started to lose it. He didn't know which one was worse.

The battle raged on and on, and it was only when he finally learned how to fire off a Red Light – _Cero – _that he defeated the guy. Getsuga joined him, and he laughed as he felt himself become complete; knew that he was the King.

In that moment of power and ecstasy something clicked, and he screamed it to the inverted sky as the rain started to pour down hard, up if you wanted to get technical.

He was white, he was sharp; just like the sickled moon he had been born under all those years ago.

"My name is Zangetsu, and I am King!"

* * *

**AN: **

This is the sequal to Rejection. See, Orihime's power rejects events right; it's basically a powered up version of turning back time. So, what if in desperation she overloaded it? Well, Ichigo is a soul at the time (his body still in Karakura) and his soul is not alone, as well know, and is comprised of different parts. I choose to send him back to Whitey, which is one of those parts and one of my favorite twists in the manga.

Then come along his Quincy powers, which is just bull shit. If his Mother (tainted by Whitey) dies due to Yhwach saying "bitch you is impure", shouldn't Ichigo with Whitey IN HIM be as dead as doornail? Oh well I've worked with it and you guys can expect a sequel to see my interpretation of that.

Cheers,

Ray the Red


End file.
